Page 15 of Hope and Happiness in Bluebell Wood
‘I’m trying to,’ he says, grinning, and he grabs a spanner from the toolkit beside him on the floor.
‘But how did you get in?’
‘There’s a spare key at the vicarage,’ he says. ‘I hope that’s okay?’
I just nod. My mind is all over the place. In the space of minutes, but what felt like seconds, I’d gone from expecting an intruder to be in my kitchen to discovering it wasn’t an intruder but a plumber under the sink, to then finding out that they were both the jogger I’d met in the woods.
‘Almost done,’ the man says, as his taut, muscular body slides back under the sink. ‘Right, that’s your U-bend reattached,’ he says after a moment or two, and he slides himself back out again. ‘You had a blockage,’ he explains. ‘Sorry, did I surprise you again? You look quite shocked to see me here.’
‘No, it’s not that . . . I . . . I didn’t recognise you without your hood,’ I reply stupidly.
The man grins. ‘That’s a new one, usually it’s something else.’
I wonder what he means.
‘I didn’t know you were coming yet,’ I say, trying to say something normal.
‘Didn’t Jonah tell you?’
‘Jonah?’
‘You spoke to him earlier when you rang the vicarage.’
‘The person I spoke to said his name was Deacon Finch?’
‘Yes, that’s right; Jonah is the deacon of the parish here.’
‘Oh, I see. Well, he said you’d probably come tomorrow.’
‘No time like the present; I had some free time thisafternoon so I thought I’d better come as soon as possible.’ He begins to put his tools away into the bag.
‘You’ve managed to fix it, then?’ I ask. ‘My sink?’
‘Let’s try it, shall we?’ He stands up and turns on the tap. Water flows into the bowl, and quickly drains away down the plug hole. ‘Like magic!’ he says, gesturing flamboyantly at the sink.
‘Wonderful,’ I tell him, a fixed smile on my face. Although this man is very pleasant to look at, I never want to be in the company of strangers long these days, so I’m keen for him to leave now. ‘Thank you so much for coming out so quickly . . . ’
‘Sorry, we haven’t been introduced properly, have we?’ He holds out his hand. ‘I’m Callum.’
I hesitate.
‘Don’t worry, it’s clean!’ Callum jokes, looking at his hand.
Reluctantly I shake his hand, and as I do, I notice how soft it is. Quite the opposite to how a handyman’s hand usually feels – slightly rough and worn.
‘Again, I’m sorry if I scared you the other day in the wood,’ he says, clearly noticing my apprehension. ‘I fear I may have startled you, suddenly appearing like that.’
‘You didn’t scare me,’ I say, desperately trying to appear calm and unruffled.
‘Good, I’m pleased. It’s just you were very quiet and you looked a little pale.’
‘Perhaps I’m just not that talkative,’ I reply shortly.
I’m so uncomfortable right now. Small talk with strangers was something I could perform in my sleep before, now I find it excruciatingly painful. I wish he would just go.
But luckily for me, Callum doesn’t ask more questions, he just nods. ‘Totally. I understand. Not everyone has as much tosay as I do.’ He smiles again, and I feel my insides, trying so hard to be tough right now, melt just a little. ‘It’s very nice to meet you, Ava.’
‘How do you know my name?’ I ask, suddenly forgetting my anxieties.
